


Alone Together

by ThePaintedScorpionDoll



Series: Scenes from a War-Forged Courtship [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Aeron Tabris, Aeron/Alistair, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePaintedScorpionDoll/pseuds/ThePaintedScorpionDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, in love, limits and boundaries aren't such a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Together

To be fairly honest, Aeron figures that she probably could have come up with a better excuse to get Alistair in her tent--something much more plausible than wanting his counsel on how best to deal with dents in her shield. It’s not so much that it was an outright _lie_ , that one--there _are_ several dents that need working out before the next time they cross paths with darkspawn--but the flaw lay in the concept that such work needs doing within the privacy of a tent.

To continue being honest, Aeron figures Alistair knew this. (Despite what the others imply and Morrigan outright says, he isn’t dumb. A touch naive, sure, but that happens to be part of his charm--or so she once reasoned to an incredulous Morrigan.) Still, he cheerfully offered to do the work for her, didn’t he? He even went the extra step of fetching his tools from his own knapsack before following Aeron into her tent.

But what happened then, after the flap fell closed? Alistair simply tossed the small sack of tools in the corner.

Ah, but--no--not right away. Not before asking about the shield almost _too_ loudly, with a little grin; certainly not before Aeron could grab the front of his shirt and pull him low enough to kiss that grin off his face. _That’s_ when the tools landed with a dulled metallic _thunk_ in the corner. That’s when he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her back…

Yes, Aeron figures she could have come up with a more plausible ruse.

She also figures that, since it worked, she should probably stop worrying about it.

“You do realize,” Alistair tells her in a low voice, “that if you wanted me in here just for the privacy of kissing, you could have simply _asked_.”

“And endure hoots and jokes from the others?” Aeron shakes her head. “I wasn’t in the mood for that tonight.”

“No, I can see that.” He laughs a little. “We’re probably going to get it even more now, anyway. You realize that, too, don’t you?”

Not that the Elf rightly cares at the moment. The thought registers as being nowhere nearly as important as having his mouth against hers. It’s a craving, almost, sparked by a pileup of little things. The focused ferocity Alistair displays in battle. The way his hazel eyes seem to steal the glow of firelight. The little touches of reassurance he offers her in tense situations. Watching him run through his training routines. The passion that exists in the midst of sparring with him.

And then there are those occasional dreams--the ones that leave her much too warm in the middle of the night, make it hard to meet his eyes the next morning; leave her staring at his hands a little bit longer than she should.

Aeron mumbles his name against his lips. Her fingers slip to his shoulders; she shoves just hard enough to put Alistair off his balance. He stumbles, tries to right himself--then down he goes onto her bedroll. Aeron takes in the view of him sprawled on the floor at her feet--a little pout on his reddened lips as he looks up at her, the light of the lantern making his eyes look like burnished gold--and it…is…

“How very cruel!” Alistair teases. “Invite me into your tent under a ruse, distract me with kissing, throw me around--”

“Put you right where I want you…” Aeron lowers to her knees across his lap. “I think I have you trapped, darling Warden.”

“Or maybe it’s the other way around? Maybe I’ve--”

The rest of the potential boast is crushed to silence by a new kiss. The Elf shivers as Alistair draws clawed fingers down her back. His hands settle tentatively around her waist. She hears him sigh as she kisses a line along his jaw.

“Maybe you do have me-- _mmf--!_ ” Alistair’s fingers momentarily dig into her sides, matching the way her teeth have nipped his ear. “Hah…! _W-well!_ That’s--”

The Elf pulls away enough to look at him. “Sorry--”

“No! No, don’t--” He shakes his head. “It-- I kind of--”

“You liked it?”

The senior Warden’s eyes are growing hazy with lust. He nods. The corner of his mouth ticks upward in a lopsided little grin. Aeron presses a kiss to that corner. Alistair cups the curve of her face, brushing the pad of his thumb along her cheek.

“You’re too much,” he murmurs breathlessly. “Too perfect--”

“Shh.” She nudges his nose with hers. “I’m not.”

“ _Perfect,_ ” Alistair insists, kissing her. “Every part--”

Aeron laughs. “Alistair--”

“Every part. Just perfect, perfect--”

“You haven’t even seen all of my parts.”

“I know--I just _know_ ,” he says, voice thick with desire. “You’re completely…just…”

He initiates this time, trapping her lower lip gently between his lips. When the tip of his tongue brushes gently over his temporary hostage, it draws a sound of surprise out of her. Where in the abbey did he learn _that_? Aeron parts her lips, responds with an equally gentle brush of her tongue against his. He does not draw back in hesitation like the Elf half-expects. Rather, the young man mimics her actions, digs his fingertips into her lower back and--when it draws a moan out of her, kisses her harder. He makes a daring little risk of catching Aeron’s lower lip between his teeth--not very hard, not for very long. Just enough to send a bolt of warmth through her, to get another surprised sound. His laughter is soon in her ear, low and husky.

“This is, I think, quite unlike you,” Alistair teases.

“Cheeky Chantry boy--” Another warm bolt goes through her as his mouth discovers that _wonderful_ little spot over her pulse. Aeron sighs. “You catch on so quick.”

Alistair’s hands go higher, her shirt bunching under his palms as they settle around her ribcage. The contrast between the heat under her skin and the draft snaking into the tent… Aeron shivers.

“Alistair--”

“Hmm?”

How does he _do_ that? Manage to look so innocent and yet still succeed at being so…? Alistair flashes a knowing grin between lighter kisses. His thumbs slowly follow the line of her ribs--back, forth; outward, back to center--and Aeron makes a sound of aroused frustration. If only he would take his exploring hands a little _higher_ , or perhaps under the fabric--!

“ _So_ very unlike you,” he murmurs between more little kisses. “I think I like it. I like this different you.”

“You would--”

Aeron pulls his mouth to hers, missing the pressure and warmth of it already. She shifts her hips against his without thinking about it. The little moan Alistair breathes into her mouth, though, and the bit of squirming he does underneath her… It’s rewarding. Encouraging. Aeron rakes her fingers down his chest through the fabric of his shirt. At his waist, she searches, finds the buckle of his belt--

Alistair seizes her wrists suddenly, breaking the kiss with a jerk of his head in the same moment. Both of them freeze. Their heavy breathing fills the tent. A dizzying buzz spins in Aeron’s head. She blinks, confused. Alistair’s hands are warm, his grip tight and trembling. The flush of desire is still very present on his face. His eyes, however… They flash vivid warning signs. They flash panic, fear, maybe even a little…guilt?

"Alistair?” Aeron tries to make herself sound less needy, more concerned. “What's wrong?"

"I--" Alistair’s bottom lip disappears briefly into his mouth. He shakes his head, eyebrows knitting. "I, um, I can't."

Aeron tries to catch on. "You can’t…?"

"I-I'm not…” Alistair shakes his head again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Aeron, I--”

“Alistair--”

“I’m just not…r- _ready_ ,” he manages in a soft voice. “I can’t--”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on her fairly quickly. "Oh--I--"

"I'm sorry--"

"No! Alistair, _no_ , there's nothing to be sorry for," Aeron tells him. "If anyone should be apologizing--"

"But it's not--" Alistair releases her wrists to bury his face in his hands, to run them through his hair. "It isn’t you. I swear it isn’t you, Aeron. It’s me. All me. I want to be with you--I really do--but I--"

"Alistair, it's okay--"

"No, Aeron-- _please_. Let me… Just let me explain. Please."

Silently, Aeron nods. She shifts off his lap, settles near him on the bedroll. It worries her that Alistair still looks so very guilty, so very ashamed of himself, even. He hasn't a single reason to feel that way. Not a single one.

"I know I must be crazy, considering most men wouldn't think twice about being with such a beautiful woman, but…I wasn't raised that way. And it isn't even like I haven't considered--” He catches himself, clears his throat. “I mean, not… I haven’t considered it _often_ , but I've--I mean, I am still just a man and you'll hopefully forgive me for that--"

Alistair gives a heavy huff, scratches the back of his neck. His hands land heavily in his lap.

“Look, Aeron, it's no real secret, is it? How I feel about you? I might even actually go as far as to say I…that I'm in love with you. In fact…yes.” He looks at her, hazel eyes softened by genuine emotion. "I am very much in love with you.

“But that just makes it all the more important to me that we do this properly. Not-- We don’t have to be married. I just… I want it to be right. That when it finally happens--if it does--that it’s because we both want it to, not because we rushed into it."

Aeron rests her hand gently on his. "The last thing I want to do is push you into something you don’t want to do. I love you too much to do that."

"You--wait--" Alistair blinks. He meets her gaze. "Say that last part again?"

She considers having fun with him, pretending she doesn't know which section he means, but the realization blooming on his face is too precious to her to risk ruining it.

"I love you, Alistair," Aeron says again. "I’m in love with you.”

“You are…?”

“Very much in love with you,” she echoes. “I want you to be comfortable with me, regardless of what that means for us right now."

Alistair is silent for a little while. The gears appear to be turning in his head. "So it…doesn't bother you? My having never…a-and my not wanting to just yet? Even though we’ve…? Because I enjoy this, what we’ve been doing just now; kissing you, being close to you like this--I like it. I’m okay with it. But the rest…"

"Why would it bother me?"

"I just didn't want you to think…” He frowns. “I don't know."

"Alistair. Listen to me. _Really_ listen to me." Aeron shifts closer to him. "The only thing that bothers me about this is how much this bothers you. Were you really afraid I would reject you because you’re not ready for sex?”

“I just thought… I know it’s silly to think it-- _I know_ it is--but sometimes I catch myself thinking, ‘She could have her pick of any man--of anyone she wants--and yet for some reason, she chooses to humor me.’ That thought just circles in my head and I just feel…foolish.”

“Well, there’s your problem,” she answers. “I didn’t choose to humor you, and I don’t want anyone else. I want you. _I choose you._ You’re a good man, Alistair. Your heart is in the right place. Despite what you’ve been through, what you’ve lost and what we’ve seen, it…hasn’t ruined you.

“And hell,” adds the Elf with a little smile, “you’re not all that bad to look at, either.”

It gets Alistair to laugh a little. He seems to relax. “Well, I’m glad you think so. I’m glad, too, that…that we can talk about this. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like my feelings aren’t sincere. They are.”

“And hearing that is enough for me.” She brings his hand to her lips and presses a light kiss to his knuckles. “Alistair?”

“Hm?”

An unusual bout of shyness overtakes her. Aeron focuses her gaze on the details of his hand, on noticing the little nicks and scrapes she cannot recall seeing before. “Would it be…? Is it too much to ask of you to stay the night? Not for… I just--I haven’t been sleeping well, so--”

“You, too, hm?”

Their eyes meet. They trade quiet, knowing smiles. Alistair slips his hand out of hers. He kisses her cheek and offers to secure the flap of the tent. Aeron waits until he returns to the bedroll to snuff out the lantern. It is surprisingly easier than she expected it would be to fit against him in the dark--almost as if they have always spent evenings like this, with her comfortably wrapped in his strong arms. The sound of his heartbeat is soothing, almost hypnotic. The scent of him is a comfort.

Aeron feels Alistair’s lips brush against her hairline as she drifts. She hears him murmur a goodnight, feels him hold her closer.

It is, she figures, much better than anything she could have planned.

 


End file.
